I did the leg workout from Tuesday. This time around I noticed that the workout is very structured until the 28 minute mark. That’s when they decide to wing it a little (hence more talking). I upped my game and tried some of the harder moves this time. My legs were trembling like a newborn fawn’s, so I was not disappointed.

I took Justin’s car to radiation today. When I pulled into the parking lot it was raining, and the parking lot was very full. I found one lonely spot and pulled in.

I’m not used to driving Justin’s car. It’s got a very big nose on the front, and it’s hard to see where it ends. Sure enough, as I pulled into the spot I tapped the bumper of the person in front of me. The car in front of me had pulled through but they didn’t pull far enough forward and the car was in my space. That’s not an excuse for tapping her bumper. That’s just how the cars were situated.

The tap was so light I wasn’t even sure it actually happened.

Until the other driver got out of the car.

I whispered an expletive under my breath.

Clearly irritated, she walked around the back of her vehicle looking for damage. I got out and apologized profusely. She said she didn’t think there was any damage. I didn’t see any on Justin’s car. She was concerned about damage to her backup camera so I stood in the rain while she climbed back in her car and checked to see if it was working.

When she said it was I breathed a sigh of relief.

After the damage assessment it seemed like she was still waiting for something.

She was obviously still annoyed with me and I can’t stand that, especially when something is my fault. I apologized again and I offered her my insurance information.

“I should probably take it. You know. Just in case.”

“Right,” I said, wanting the conversation to be over. “Just in case.”

She took a picture of the card and I prayed mightily that she wouldn’t take advantage of me.

When I got into my radiation appointment I told the nurses what had happened.

Well, ‘told’ is too simple a word.

I had a bitch fest.

“Why did she need my insurance? It was just a tap! A teeny, tiny, little tap! There was nothing wrong with her car. She was in my space and now I have to call my husband and he loves that car and I was going to radiation and she should cut me some slack goddammit.”

All of this while I was laying on the table my arm over my head and one boob hanging out while they drew on my chest.

Not my most dignified rant.

As the appointment progressed one of the nurses said, “Just one more treatment today.” Then, a grin in her voice, “You’re one step closer to making that phone call.”

I groaned.

She said, “When you’re ready, take a breath and hold.”

“I can’t breathe after that!”

I did manage to hold my breath, but it was hard. Really, really hard.

I wish I would have had the presence of mind to take pictures of both our vehicles. Unfortunately I didn’t think of it until I was leaving.

When I got out to the car the other driver was gone and another car occupied her space. Now that there was another car in the space I could see just how far she’d been in my space. And even though it was totally my fault, my blood started boiling all over again.

I called Justin, but his phone went to voicemail. Then I got a text.

Justin: In meeting. What’s up?

Me (striving for a casual tone): Pulled into a space in the parking lot and tapped the bumper of the person in front of me. No damage that I could see on either vehicle and she said her rear camera was still working. She took a picture of our insurance just in case. Thought you should know.

And then I waited for a response. It didn’t come for a few minutes. During that time I had many horrible visions of him being furious and me ruining his meeting.

My phone buzzed, telling me I had a text.

Justin: Ok.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Then,

Justin: I’ve been wanting a faster one anyway.

Today’s silver lining: For many reasons, thank God there was no damage.

What’s your silver lining today? I love comments!

Don’t want to leave a comment, but have something you want to share? Send me an email at gettingthewordswrong(at)gmail(dot)com.